


Squealing Tires

by TheSleeplessWriter



Series: Johnlock [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Car Accidents, Established Johnlock, Established Relationship, Johnlock - Freeform, Kissing, M/M, murder investigation, sports car
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 08:42:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10613316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSleeplessWriter/pseuds/TheSleeplessWriter
Summary: It certainly wasn't the first time Sherlock couldn't keep his mouth shut and nearly got them killed.





	

The sports car was bright red and ever so tempting. It was also the murder weapon. That didn't deter Sherlock and John from entering with the murder at the wheel. 

Ok, it didn't deter Sherlock. John didn't know Collins was the murderer yet. He certainly would not have let his boyfriend enter a car with him. 

Sherlock's hands were folded neatly in his lap as he gazed at the rich man with piercing gray eyes. 

"Why did Susan have to die?" He said in a clear, low voice. A neutral expression remained on Sherlock's face. 

Collins' face contorted in shock, his blue eyes darkening and his smooth, never-worked hands clenching the steering wheel. He sloppily recovered, feigning ignorance. It was pathetic. 

"Who is that?" Collins asked in a wobbly, nervous voice. He pretended to nonchalantly focus on the road. 

"Your favorite prostitute who later became your mistress." Sherlock replied coolly. "But you already know all about that." He added. 

John nudged Sherlock, shaking his head. They needed to stop until they could get a hold of Lestrade. John's hands were already reaching for his gun. 

Collins spluttered, his usually creamy complexion turning scarlet. "I don't know anything about that." He still tried for innocence. The car sped up in his anger. 

"Susan was going to the papers to expose you. She wanted money, yet you refused. Your car has also been recently given a full cleaning, despite that it was already done a few days before." Sherlock continued. John elbowed Sherlock again, harder. 

"Tsk. Quite the shame. I'm afraid the rest of your life shall be spent in a cell." Sherlock said, oblivious to the dangerous look on the man's face. 

John already had his gun drawn to Collins head, ordering him to pull over. There was bound to be a pair of handcuffs in Sherlock's pocket. They were saving that for after the case was solved. 

Things got muddled after that. There was shouting, screeching tires, and a powerful clap of force. It smelled of smoke and blood after that. 

John cracked his eyes open. At first, all he saw was the puffy airbags exploded in the front seat. He turned his head to Sherlock, who was beaten and bruised, his head nodding down. He breathed a sigh of relief after placing two fingers to his neck, feeling a faint-but-there heartbeat. 

He kicked open the twisted door, walking to the front of the car. They had crashed into a pole. John pried open the driver side door, finding Collins dead and bloody. They would have been the same, had they been seated in the front. 

His hands fumbled as he texted Lestrade. In the back of his mind, John knew he was probably in shock. The soldier in him took over, commandeering his movements for the time. He didn't even realize how bruised his ribs were until much later. 

"John?" A familiar hoarse voice croaked. 

John rushed to his door on weak legs, nearly tripping in the process. He pulled Sherlock from the wrecked car, seating him on the soft grass before he began to check for injuries. 

Sherlock's face was red stained, mostly around his mouth. John's careful hands found he had bit down on his bottom lip upon the impact, leaving a large gash. Besides that, he had numerous bruises littering his body. 

"Let's go home." Sherlock said quietly, doing his best to stay still as John inspected him. 

"Hell no. You need stitches." John muttered, gesturing to Sherlock's lip. It surprised him how much his voice cracked. 

"I already texted one of my homeless network, though technically, he lives in his car. He's picking us up." Sherlock said with a sheepish smile. 

"Absolutely not. You're going to the hospital." John said firmly, placing a light kiss to his forehead. The two sat beside each other in quiet for a moment. 

"I don't want to. I want to go home." Sherlock said after some time, his voice tinged with a whine. He was terrified of hospitals, of the piercing smell of sickness poorly covered with antiseptic. He escaped them every time he was forced into one. 

"Nope." John said simply, wrapping his arms around Sherlock and resting his chin atop of dark curls. 

"You can stitch my lip at home. We have the supplies. You're a doctor after all." Sherlock pressed, touching a sore spot with the doctor comment. John's competence as a doctor was always being questioned and devalued. 

Before John could reply, a mud colored car pulled up to the side of the road. The window rolled down, a dirty blonde man grinning at them. 

"Ooh, that's a nasty one. Hop in." He said, his thick Cockney accent making his speech almost impossible to understand. 

"Jooohn." Sherlock said, looking to John with wide, begging eyes. One would feel like a damn monster for saying no to that face. 

Most days John was able to ignore Sherlock's begging, but today was not one of those days. Besides, he himself was tired and aching, wanting nothing more than to go home. 

\---

Sherlock was seated on the kitchen table, swinging his feet as he waited for John to finish preparing the needle and thread. His face was already cleaned up and his lip numbed. 

John was amazingly gentle when he grabbed Sherlock's chin to bring it closer as he assessed the damage. Only a few stitches. The air was heavy with hesitation. It's been a while since he had to do this. Somehow, John's hands were supernaturally steady and careful as he stitched up the wound. It felt like it took hours, when in reality the procedure was rather quick. It was relatively easy considering how full Sherlock's bottom lip was. 

After the last knot was tied up and pain meds administered, Sherlock gave John comically big, sad eyes. 

"Kish it better?" He slurred with a smirking tone. He couldn't actually smile, as it would probably pop the stitches. 

"No kissing for now. But I can do this." John said deviously, a grin on his face as he grabbed Sherlock's shoulders and gently sucked on his neck. Sherlock let out a low moan. John nipped the skin lightly before pulling away.

"Cockteashe." Sherlock muttered, a petulant frown on his face. 

John snickered as they headed towards the bedroom. They had all sorts of fun ideas and plans, but they were forgotten the moment their bodies hit the bed. The two embraced each other and fell asleep within seconds. Pain meds and pure exhaustion did not equal hours of fun in the bedroom. 

They never got to use those damn handcuffs after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Writing Johnlock is so much fun. I'll take requests, so comments down below any ideas you would like me to write. Hope you liked, and always feel free to leave kudos, comments, and constructive criticism. :)


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